Vic Marcel

(Set in New Zealand)

Perfection according to Vic Marcel, a 28-year-old itinerant worker, was unscrewing a bottle of Australian Merlot with a panting blonde at his side.

And that was a brilliant mouth-watering thought!

Only he was alone, unscrewing a bottle of mineral water two weeks older than its expiry date.

Screw the world, this was reality.

Vic was deep into Otago, a dry and almost barren province of Southern New Zealand.

Footsore he pulled out the tattered cutting from the employment section of a newspaper and re-read the advertisement attempting to attract an experienced assistant winemaker at Southern Skies Winery, Central Otago.

The newspaper was almost a month old but Vic was optimistic; perhaps the recruit had proved worthless and the winery was about to re-advertise.

Vic heard the sound of horse-shoes striking flint.

He pulled himself upright, and hand-brushed back his blond hair and squinted against the intense sunlight.

Perfect, a human had appeared to share refreshments with him and tell him where the fuck he was in relation to Southern Winery. His loins ached for the comfort of a bed.

He saw a flash of white as her lips parted: "Get off our land."

The bitch, where were her manners. The brochures had described New Zealand as a friendly country.

He lunged to his feet and pulled her from the saddle.

Her screams as she had the presence of mind to kick free of the stirrups frightened the horse but her mount was going nowhere because Vic's right arm was through the dropped reins.

The young woman writhed and attempted to scratch and kick him but no longer screaming as they struggled in the wilderness.

He held on grimly, knowing that he'd soon have a torrent of information because she was female and therefore unable to keep her mouth shut.

Finally she spoke.

"One thousand dollars let me go – two thousand to leave me unharmed."

"Is that all you value yourself?" he sneered, loosening his grip and paying the price.

Her swinging slap jammed his top lip against his teeth, drawing blood.

"You bitch," he howled.

"No – no. I'm sorry."

Swallowing blood he released her and growled, off you go."

"Get off our land," she said defiantly.

"That's no way to talk to a person about his lawful business," the South Australian said.

He grabbed her, flipped her across his knees, pulled up her riding skirt and walloped her enthusiastically.

She screamed and cursed him and then convulsed into a moaning heap.

Done, she was legless.

Vic then took a risk.

He tied the reins of the horse loosely over its neck and smacked its rump, hoping it would find its way home and bring out a search party. The filly was two small to carry both of them without risking inflicting damage to her back.

He hauled the woman right side up over his knees and kissed her; she moaning, "You bastard, your bastard. No one has ever done this to me before."

The sun was fierce and they both dozed after Vic had said confidently that someone would soon arrive looking for her,

Forty-five minutes later he heard a four-wheel drive vehicle grinding towards them.

"Quick, let me go. I'll play dead and you run out and yell to attract their attention. Tell them you found me, tossed from Milly – I mean my horse. Don't say Milly."

Vic leaped from the hollow and yelled. Two men in the Range Rover saw him and came over.

"Hi I'm Vic. I found this woman thrown from her horse. She's revived but is still groggy. Please help her."

The passenger looked into the hollow. "It's Becky," he called to the driver – bring the first aid kit."

But Becky rose to her feet and snarled: "I'm okay but this guy attempted to harm me."

The two men rushed Vic and he was just getting them under control when Becky struck him on the head with a rock.

Vic awoke with a cruel headache to find himself in a shed with a guy in his late forties pointing a shotgun at his throat.

"My daughter Becky says you interfered with her sexually."

Vic swallowed; the father looked a mean cuss but like Becky his eyes were true blue. It was worth taking a chance.

"If you believe that you best shoot me; we are well away from civilization so no one will ever know."

"You don't scare easy. You sound Aussie."

"Yep."

"What are you doing out here?"

"You bastards will have rifled my pockets and backpack and you'll know the answer to that question."

"That job's gone."

"Is he any good?"

"No."

"Then fire him and give me the job"

"You attempted to have sex with my daughter."

"Is that what she said?"

The blue eyes wavered.

"Not exactly."

Vic knew he was home, safe.

"She whacked me across the mouth for no good reason so I tipped her up and whacked her ass."

The thin lips remained tight, but the blue eyes shone. "She's a wild one. Her mother took off with a pruner 14 years ago."

"Are you going to shoot me, or do I get a drink of water?"

"I've checked your credentials – you have a graduate certificate in viticulture from the University of Adelaide on top of your science degree. The references indicated that you are of good character are 25 years of age and were orphaned at 18. Your bank statement says you have investments of $288,000 Australian dollars and $2300 in your bank account in Australian dollars. You also were carrying a six pack of condoms."

"All in all, I have to say you appear to be a credible character and match your passport photograph. So come to the house and have a meal with me and Becky."

"I'd rather not."

"Why not, are you afraid she'll horsewhip you?"

"No, of course not. It's just that I have upset her enough already."

"My daughter, although only 22, is very resilient Victor Andre Marcel of Currency Creek, South Australia. Come with me and call me Duncan. "

Vic's breath caught in his throat as he espied the young lady bathed and dressed for dinner, with a scooped neckline and drooping ear-rings, looking quite a beauty.

But she reacted. "Daddy!"

"He checks out, baby. I believe him when he says all he did was to tan your ass after you struck him over the mouth."

"Well..."

"Becky he's here as my guest for dinner. If you don't like it leave the room."

Becky jumped to her feet, cheeks aflame.

"I apologize for slapping you cute ass like that Becky and it wasn't the gentlemanly thing to do. Please stay."

She hesitated.

"I'd like you to stay."

Becky looked to her father for guidance, but he was busy pouring the pinot noir from a rival vineyard. She looked back at the dark green eyes under the untidy blond hair of Vic and he winked, undermining her resolve.

She sat down.

Vic eyed her upper curves across the table and almost felt the heat of her blush. Obviously the young woman was man shy.

They had salmon, served by a young Asian man, and then Duncan handed out the wine. Tell me what you think, Vic."

Well, this was a test, a very unsubtle test, so Vic took his time, ignoring the rolled up eyes of Becky.

Finally he gave his summary: "Juicy, fruit impact with more than a hint of spice – mid-palate is very rich. Hmmm. Young and finishes with a lilt of tannin that gives it dimension. Made to last I would think. Typical of a well-made PN."

Duncan picked up his phone. "Greg, I have a new assistant for you. Tell Rufus tonight to collect his pay from me in the morning plus two weeks' severance pay; emphasis that's all he's getting."

"You mean we're having this oaf around permanently," Becky said, cheeks hot.

"Yes and accept that. Obviously by the way he keeps looking at you he likes you and your body. Get used to that and carry your skinning knife if you wish."

Vic raised an eyebrow and looked to catch Becky's sardonic grin.

Becky excused herself after coffee but Duncan kept Vic at the table for another two and a half hours – drinking and talking wine. Finally Duncan showed Vic a bed on the side veranda. Ten minutes later – or so it seemed – a beep of the horn of a farm quad bike awoke him.

"Come on – dad's asked me to take you on a Cook's tour; we'll have breakfast when we get back."

She whistled when he jumped out of bed dressed only in his underpants. Dressed he approached he cautiously, climbing on behind her.

"What do I hold on to?"

"Any part of me."

He held around her waist. She chuckled and lifted his hands across her breasts saying, "Gripping me this high gives us better balance."

Vic settled into a two hand grip and she was away with a whoop and a holler.

They returned for breakfast and Darth the houseboy as Becky called him said he father had gone to check on the contractors working on H-block.

"You didn't play with my breasts; where you tempted?"

"Yes."

"Then why didn't you – afraid of another crack over the mouth?"

"No my mother brought me up properly before she died."

"Oh, how did she die?"

"She, my father, my older brother who was driving and my younger sister were killed when their vehicle's front tyre blew out and witnesses in the following SUV watched their vehicle plunged down a 120 metre sheer drop on to rocks."

"Oh God, I'm sorry."

"That fine. It was a few years ago. I sold the house and paid off the mortgage and used some of that money that came to me to put myself through university and then to do my diploma and travel through Europe a bit before coming here to work with Pinot Noir."

"I'm not used to men expect those on this property."

"I would be a fool not to realize that; are you a virgin?"

"No but I'm not used to a man looking at me like you do; it's as if you wish to possess more of me than just my body."

"You are very attractive with a lively spirit Becky. I've not come into close contact with more than a couple of young woman like you. I suggest we just reflect on that but in the meantime just relate like co-workers. What is your role here?"

"I act as hostess for daddy; I conduct door sales and perform as marketing manager, although none of those roles is onerous. We have never managed to make enough wine, even in years of exceptional production, to match demand. We don't have to sell to local re-sellers but dish out sufficient cases to them to keep their favourite clients happy."

"That sounds an astute policy in case the export sales take a dive for any reason. I guess you have a marketing degree and introduced that policy."

"That makes you astute."

That evening after dinner when Duncan went out on to the front veranda to enjoy the night air a shot rang out; he fell to the wood floor.

Becky ran towards him screaming but Vic hauled her back and told her to stay out of sight. He went out, grabbed Duncan by the feet who groaned as he was pulled to safety.

"Just a shoulder hit," Duncan gasped. "Get a pillow case babe for a compress and bandage it tightly. Then drive me off to the village the back way."

"Where's the shotgun, I'm going after him," Vic said.

Becky asked showing signs of distress, "Who's him?"

"Rufus!" both men answered together.

Duncan grinning painfully at Vic. His grin disappeared.

"Are you confident – Rufus could kill you? He has a big calibre rim-fire rifle with night scope."

"It's you he wants to maim, not me."

Duncan, obviously in pain, said "The shotgun out there is useless as we only have birdshot for it. Best you take the .22 and leave the shotgun for Darth to defend himself locked in the pantry. We'll circle back on to the track to find his vehicle and disable it; it will be parked off the track facing the highway for a quick get-away. So head that way as we drive out."

"Daddy, I don't want Vic killed or even injured; I truly don't daddy."

"It's your call Vic."

"The guy has to be stopped."

Duncan sighed. "Okay but do this. Take a steak from the fridge, cut it in half. Go to the third kennel from the house and let out the yellow dog. Feed him half the steak and make sure he sees you put in other half in your pocket. Then say 'Come boy'. That's all you have to do. I use him to spot deer. This fading twilight will last the best part of an hour so you'll be able to half-see. If he sniffs Rufus he'll growl lightly to let you know – remember Rufus will be heading away from you and not expecting intervention."

"He'll be picking there's only Darth in the house as being Friday night everyone will be down at the pub and that would have been Becky driving me out to Doc Harris. He'll be mad at finding his car disabled so will probably go down to the gate and wait in ambush."

"Probably?"

"That's what I'd do in his position knowing the nasty way he thinks. Be very careful, Duncan."

Becky returned carrying the .22 and a spare magazine. "Be very careful, Vic," she said, hugging and kissing him.

"Hey you two there's work to be done," Duncan said, looking at them curiously.

Vic heard the dog just ahead of him growl softly. He saw nothing then looked again and spotted a dark shadow come on to the skyline of a ridge and then disappear over it.

Rufus!

Ten minutes later Vic was creeping up to Rufus' car when he heard a rustle behind him and a gun barrel pushed hard into his back, making him gasp.

"Drop the peashooter."

Vic obeyed and received an agonizing thump from Rufus' gun butt on the shoulder. He fell to the ground groaning just as a snarling ball of fury hit Rufus and he dropped the gun screaming as fangs ripped into his arm through his thick jacket.

Vic felt around for one of the guns and picked up his .22 by the barrel. Holding out the steak for Boy he whacked the butt one-handed against Rufus's head. In pain but not wanting to give the stronger Rufus any chance of outwitting him once he regained conscious, Vic took off his belt and tied the cowardly attacker's legs together and then looped the free end through Boy's collar as an extra deterrent. Still in pain and barely able to use his right hand he removed Rufus' belt and tied his hands behind his back.

Almost an hour later when two armed policemen arrived there was a couple of terse minutes until Vic established his identity.

Rufus was shaking in fear with Boy sitting over him. Boy wouldn't allow the police constable near so the sergeant asked Vic to release the dog.

The 7-seater police SUV with its red and blue lights flashing carrying Rufus under restraint and Vic and the dog Boy aboard headed toward the village on the way to the tourist centre of Queenstown. Several vehicles went by and finally came one with headlights flashing signalling them to stop. Vic left the police vehicle and was immediately embraced by the driver of the other vehicle who purred with satisfaction that he'd probably deserved being hit by a gun barrel for being stupid enough to be outsmarted.

Becky then kissed Vic softly and muttered sympathetically.

"Hi Morris and Allen," Duncan called from the back seat. "Doc Harris says I have nothing damaged beyond what six lazy weeks won't fix naturally plus anti-biotics to control any infection. The slug passed through just under bone. We'll come to you guys in the morning with Vic to make our statements – okay?"

"I really think..."

"Oh come on Serg," Constable McKinley urged. "Let the day shift do most of the paper work."

"You have potential to make sergeant," Sergeant Smithers grinned. "Be at the station by 10:00 in the morning Duncan."

As the relieved Darth came out of the pantry to make them supper Duncan said to his daughter, "There appears to be something developing between you two?"

Becky eyed him unflinchingly and nodded.

Duncan smiled. "Vic will require some shoulder massage during the night. Best he sleeps in your room, on the couch or wherever."

"If we prove to be compatible I aim to make an honest woman of her Duncan."

"I thought as much," Duncan smiled. "Anyone besides me who can handle Boy I can certainly trust because Boy is a great judge of character."

Grinning, Becky was off to fetch the liniment.

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